


The Sunset is beautiful, his thoughts are not.

by orphan_account



Series: DirkWeek 2016 [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Day 3, DirkWeek 2016, Maybe - Freeform, Sad Dirk, Suicidal Thoughts, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-28 23:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7661110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk sits, hates himself and cries.</p><p>Why was he such a fuck up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sunset is beautiful, his thoughts are not.

The sunset was beautiful - an explosion of orange, red and purple spread across the horizon. 

It was a shame Dirk sat on his roof with his head in his hands, katana resting across his thighs. Sniffles were heard and Hal pinged aggressively from where he was thrown. He knew what the autoresponder would say –  
“It’s your fault,”  
“You drove him away,”  
“He didn’t even like you anyway,”  
“It’s all because of you.”  
Dirk knew that was the truth. He was too over bearing, too needy.  
Tears streaked down his face as the sun slipped away. It wasn’t just Jake he’d made leave him – Roxy and Jane left too. 

“Oh God.” The whimper left parted lips and a sob escaped afterwards. He’d known this would happen – Hal said that they’d get sick of him. Sick of the fucked up mess he was.

He glanced at where his shades innocently rested, as if there wasn’t a manipulative arsehole captured in them. A, admittedly rather large, part of his brain snarled,  
“But isn’t Hal technically you?” He slammed his palm into his forehead and screamed, voice cracking. It morphed into a mournful wail. He knew this. He fucking knew he was manipulative. The blade slipped off his legs and landed near his glasses with a clang he ignored. 

Tears trickled down his cheeks again and he fell down on the gravel of the roof, staring into the black glass prison of the autoresponder. His unkempt hair, greasy and knotted, flopped and slightly obscured his vision.

God he hated Hal. 

God he hated himself. 

No wonder Roxy hated him. She had to. He was Dirk Fucking Strider. No wonder Jane despised him. He stole the man she loved from under her and forced him into a relationship and then clung to him until he couldn’t stand him. No wonder Jake…

His sobs came faster, breaths became shallower. He screwed his eyes together and lay there, hyperventilating. 

The AR pinged, faster and faster. Though it seemed less angry and more worried. Dirk was so glad he hadn’t made a text to speech program for him; he didn’t need a robots skewed sense of pity. 

Rolling over, he clawed at his chest and tried to breathe. He stared up at the darkening sky and gulped at the air, aware of the piercing pain in his chest.

Why did he exist?

Why couldn’t he just have stayed decapitated, held tenderly in Jake’s hands? More tears fell, though he didn’t know how –his tear ducts must have been depleted by now. He’d been sat there with his katana, contemplating, since before the sun rose. In the end, his contemplations came to the conclusion that it’d just end with him causing the others to hate him more. He’d just be burdening them more. Manipulating their time.

Why was he so selfish? He had them at the beginning, they’d liked him. Why did he have to show them what a fuck up he was? 

Why couldn’t he just be dead?

Why was he too selfish to do it?


End file.
